I'm OK, You're NOT...

...certainly not if you think that incest is simply "the latest frontier in people throwing off the shackles of rigid, cultural convention and following their hearts".  Apparently, if it feels good, do it, even if it means screwing your sibling(s?). I can't speak for anyone else but there are 6 kids in my family and my parents never, ever had to tell us not to have sex with each other. Somehow, we got through our childhood without incest ever popping up. 

You may ask, Well Meg, if there were 6 of you, how do you know your parents never caught any of them having sex?" 

Not an unreasonable question. My family is stereotypically  Irish but when someone was being punished, you'd think we were Italian. The whole house erupted in screams, crying and father's intimidating barking. And I am quite sure that if any of my brothers and sisters had been caught trying to pull off some sort of taboo bursting, in addition to the initial blitzkrieg my Dad would have given one of his 2 hour lectures that made me wish he'd just beat the hell out of me and send me to my room. I never listened to what he was saying, all that went through my mind was, "God...please shut him up."

Like my parents, I don't think it should be necessary to tell people that siblings shouldn't have sex. But, since Hollywood director Nick Cassavetes  is out there spreading the message that sex between siblings should be OK...just like sex between members of the same sex...maybe I'm wrong. I doubt that there will be enough incestuous siblings to form a decent parade so I have to say that incest is not at all like gay sex. The sheer numbers of gay people lead me to believe that homosexuality is a trait, not an acquired taste. Even a gay man knows better than to screw his brother.

I never thought I'd come across an article that defended a non-incestuous society and I never thought it would be necessary to write one in a post Pharaoh world, but I guess it is. And, that task fell to one Dr. Keith Ablow. Here is his defense of the philosophy that says you don't have sex with family members:

http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2012/09/11/can-sex-between-brothers-and-sisters-ever-be-normal/?intcmp=obnetwork#ixzz27y6ZoSI6

He wrote that entire article without even alluding to the fact that children of siblings usually end up cross-eyed and classified as somewhat below educable. Trust me, I lived in Georgia and I know that if you get close to Cartersville, you'll eventually run into a family with matching deformities  They are famous locally for their incest. Wouldn't it be funny if they were actually ahead of their time and I'm a member of a dying society that frowns on sex between siblings? Oh well, the Pharaohs did it and if things truly do come in cycles, who knows?

Here's my baby...

...and his name is Butkis.

I wish I had a better picture but that was the best I could do at the time.

He's a smart little pooch but he isn't quite smart enough to know that he is a very small dog. For some reason, he's gotten it into his head that he's a really large, dangerous and powerful canine. He's completely harmless...he chases ducks but never catches them. He also goes after lizards but those suckers are faster than the ducks.

His likes include sticking his nose up the butts of other dogs and his dislikes include being excluded from any   physical contact between any two other species. I still miss Payton something awful but I don't miss his boxer farts. I've neither heard nor smelled any evidence of Butkis passing gas although I imagine he does.

For some inexplicable reason...

...I spent most of yesterday extremely tired. I even took a nap which is very odd for me. When I woke up I was sort of pleased that I had napped because as tired as I was, I was expecting to fall asleep in the middle of Monday Night Football. Alas, it didn't work. I was snoozing before halftime. If I had seen that coming, I wouldn't have worried too much because I  was sure that Green Bay would win the game anyway.

Imagine my surprise when, as soon as he woke up, my boyfriend (fiance?) told me that "Green Bay had the game stolen by Seattle".  He started to explain what had happened when I queried, "So, it was a touch-back?"  His description of the play certainly sounded like a touch-back to me. But he smiled and said, "Nope...it was a touchdown for Seattle. Confused by his description of the play, I had to go online and see what he was talking about. That just confused me more. Apparently, if you catch the defender who catches the ball, it counts as a touchdown. 

I went to YouTube to see the actual play and as many times as I watched it, I still don't understand how it was a touchdown. Technically, it doesn't matter much to me (unless that play affects the play-offs) because I'm a Bears fan. So, I have no dog in that fight but although I see the logic behind the call, I still think it sucked. I would have hated to be in a Green Bay sports bar when they called the play a touchdown. I never expected Green Bay to lose and I think there should be an asterisk after that game forever. As a Bears fan, I wouldn't mind seeing Green Bay lose but not like that (once again, unless it affects the play offs).

If one of my kids had grown up to be a football player, I  would have worried about his safety every Sunday afternoon. If one of them had grown up to be a referee, I wouldn't have worried too much because even a ref can get hurt by a misguided tackle. But from now on, I would worry something awful if my kid was a ref because I doubt that many players will try too hard to avoid hurting the refs from now on.

Oh well,, it was what it wasn't but that's OK, I have my own problems so I can't afford to worry too much about a bad call in a football game that didn't involve the Bears. But, a day without a stroke is a day I can handle...whatever else comes my way.

So, I can't leave this post without something amusing so let me think...what tickles my funny bone today? I haven't heard of any infection left by the Nair that I applied to my idiot-ex's face so I guess I have to come up with something all by myself. I can still make myself  giggle by imagining Rick's messed up face the day he left, but you didn't see that so let me think, what might make you smile? Oh, I know.

This will only make you smile if you are into fart humor but fart humor is still humor so I'm going to tell you something that I did the other day. The man I'm trying to make my own took me with him to pick up a prescription the other day. We went to Walgreens and there weren't many people around. I had that feeling of a bit too much air in my bowels so instead of holding back (which I would have done under ANY other circumstances) I tried to break my own walking fart record with my man behind me. In case you don't know what a walking fart is, it's when you fart just a bit with every step you take. That's something I've always done alone and my record is 8 fart steps in a row. Hoping for nine but only releasing 5 (which really isn't a bad score) I began my fart walking. I may not have broken my record for fart walking in private, but I did set a record  for fart walking in public. As disgusting as that may sound to many people, I did get a great laugh from my audience of one. Every single fart step evoked a giggle from the one man that I should be trying to impress. 

I've always tried to be a lady and fart in private. A public fart would have embarrassed the hell out of me. I think my most embarrassing fart was the one that got away when I was dating Rick and tried to impress him by showing him how strong I was by picking him up. He didn't laugh, he just turned away. But the man I have now isn't afraid of farts. I don't remember the first time I farted in front of  him but his response must have been positive or I  wouldn't have done  it again. So, whenever I feel like farting around him, I just let them rip because he can't help but laugh and Lord knows I'll do anything for a laugh. After the last Walgreens fart step, he said, "You know, I didn't smell any of them." I told him it didn't matter because as everyone knows, farts only smell  for the benefit of those who CAN'T hear them. He heard them and that was enough to make him smile which is enough to make me happy.

Before I end this post, let me apologize to those who don't appreciate fart humor. I owe you a laugh. But it's early in the morning so I have to wait until the rest of my brain wakes up enough to amuse you. 

I Just Saw A Great Money Making Opportunity...

...and I wasn't even looking for one. I was relaxing in front of the TV when I saw a commercial for skin tag removal stuff. My idea is that I could be their spokesperson. I most certainly could be a model. As a matter of  fact, I could model any number of odd skin things that weren't there when I started looking at my skin. I remember having matching freckles, one on the back of each hand. Now they're lost in a sky of brilliant liver spots. It worries me that it will only get worse. Anything new and different shouldn't be there and will only get worse so even the slightest of changes should be alarming.

I think it would suck to apply for the job of skin tag model and NOT get it. But, a select few DID get the  job and I was rather impressed with their stoic stances as they battled the evil skin tags. But, I have to say, I think a couple of those tags were fake...they just didn't look humanly possible. Luckily, I'm not too bothered by skin tags and liver spots, especially when I  remember that Madonna is my age and however she currently flaunts herself around...she has the same problem. I imagine she has a few more options with which she can hide those suckers. Personally, I can't afford Jan Brady's lemons. My plan is to sit around and grow this crap until it becomes de rigueur. The odds are long but the risk is low.

As I've mentioned in many earlier posts, I very well may be losing my mind. I mean that in a good way...I'll just sit around and be a sweet old confused lady. I can live with that. So, my short term memory is crap, but, as any good little lady dementia patient will tell you, I remember every stitch of my prom dress.

Basically, I try to keep myself busy but my mind is too overwhelmed with other stuff so I don't exercise as much as I should BUT...I do squats in front of the micro-wave while I'm waiting for my coffee to warm up. I work out in 45 second bursts. I've done a lot of different things to create shapely legs but all I've ever had is Angelina Jolie's anorexic legs. They're so ridiculously long that my heavily gravid body was once pointed out to resemble a water tower. The dude who said that probably forgot it decades ago, but after almost 40 years I still can't pass a water tower on the highway without my self esteem getting a little smack in the face. It's all good, I've pretty much decided to give up. I just haven't decided to whom I should surrender.

Anyway, I need to get a web-cam so that I can model my assets in the skin tag arena. On second thought, perhaps I should forget the skin tag plan...I would hate to be turned down. Maybe I could get in through the business end of skin tag removal.

The only thing I see wrong with skin tag removal is possibility of the odd, atypical reaction that could leave me with some flesh eating disease that would have me leading the news with my current limb count. So I don't need to help that nasty organism enter my body through into a hole created by some chemical designed to eat away human flesh of ANY sort.

That reminds me of the last time I saw my idiot-ex. He was having an affair so he was more than happy to let me groom his hideous hair problem that only a bald man knows. He had the cranial explosion of sideways growing hairs, right down to the uni-brow. He actually let me put Nair in between his eyes. Now, when I did that, I did it with the best of intentions. The chemical reaction those chemicals had with his lower forehead skin could neither have been expected nor hoped for. After all, it never happened to my long skinny legs. He left shortly after that...so soon that the sores didn't have a chance to heal AT ALL. The last time I saw him, he was marked with an upside-down triangular area of open, oozing and raw skin that reached from his forehead halfway down his nose. It still makes me smile.

And once again, NO...I didn't do it on purpose...I had no way of knowing he would melt. If I had known, I would have used a helluva lot more Nair than I did.

I Owned Up To Some Weird Feelings...

...and I received this reassuring comment:

Nah you seem like your usual sultry self. 

Then I read a comment from a blog bud that showed her clear understanding  of my current mental status (I'm not nuts, but I could be if I wanted to) which helps me in some way:

Can't possibly imagine why your anxiety level is through the roof, Little One. ;)
Yep. Short term memory. Strokes do that. Then you're sure you're loosing your mind.

I guess it's true that misery loves company... and as selfish as it may be, I was very pleased to read that comment. I'm sorry to hear of any sadness, but I must admit...misery loves company and I'm glad someone got what I was saying. It pleases me that I got the feeling across. 

In case you were wondering, I don't know why the stupid letters have the boxes around them and I can't figure out how to make it go away. That problem came with the hideous new version of  Blogger and I've been baffled by it ever since. Any suggestions would be sincerely appreciated.

I've been drinking coffee all day except for the time I was eating a bag of those sour neon gummy worms. I hope I don't have to run briskly any time soon. I would hate to be in the hospital on an entirely new unit, the Cardiac Care Unit. I can deal with my brain being screwed up, but I need my heart. And apparently I won't be needing THAT for much longer. Once you start losing your mind, the rest doesn't matter. I'm just a misguided afternoon jaunt into alligator territory away from a permanent bed at the local nursing home.

I do remember to  feed the ducks and they, along with the seagulls and a few crows, seem to know who I am and they start flying in to snatch cereal pieces that I toss in the air into their bird mouths. When I walk over to the water, it doesn't take long for the usual species to start swooping in to meet me. If I stay out long enough, even the  big turtles will show up occasionally. That's pretty much the most peaceful, relaxing and enjoyable thing that I  do lately. Granted, I'm not doing dreadfully much, but I do have the birds.

Maybe I should take in some sustenance of substance...ya think? I don't have much of an appetite so, like any good old lady, I have vitamin shakes...the kind you make with milk, not the crazy expensive bottles  that they gave me at the hospital. They are good so if I have to have something, I'm glad it's something that I like. But before I resort to the vitamin shake, I must stand in front of my cabinets with the doors open, stare into them and then do the same thing to the fridge. Who knows what new stuff might pop up? 

Interesting little tidbit...

...I seem to be developing agoraphobia. It's not a fear in itself, it's more of an extension of my usual, every day fears that have plagued me since I was a little girl. I remember having that butterfly in the tummy feeling as a kid for little, if any, reason whatsoever. It was the same feeling you'd get if there really was a problem or something real to worry about. It's one thing to be stressed over something real, you might be able to fix that. But a fear of nothing particularly rational can't really be tackled. I don't need a reason to be afraid but it certainly helps. As a kid, I had some fears that I had no control over. One example is an empty refrigerator. If I opened the fridge and it was empty, I would feel a hideous fear. I can't explain the feeling any better than most people do, like being on a roller coaster...you know, as that first hill pulls you up to the curve that will lead you to a huge descent down the first hill on the ride. Anyway, this latest increase in anxiety has caught my attention.

The fear is rather debilitating because you're constantly afraid that whatever you do will just end up all botched up, leading to further disarray which in itself makes a fertile ground for angst. An extremely uncomfortable, acute and constant sense of  impending doom follows me around night and day. I'm not sure why this is getting so bad right now but it can't be good for anyone. I have too many things that I want and need to do; I can't let an irrational fear rule me as this fear seems to be doing. Whatever, the worst that can happen is the stress explodes a blood vessel in my brain and I croak. When it comes to croaking, I have the same thoughts as did Socrates...death is either an heavenly place where people would live forever with the Gods or it was nothing but a long sleep, either way, he didn't find it frightening. It's odd, but I'm not afraid of death, supposedly the worst thing that could happen, but the thought of going out the front door is daunting.

Anyway, not counting the sudden increase of my anxiety issues, I'm doing well. That last stroke left me with some deficits that I've been able to overcome by just using the afflicted body parts but one thing is still causing problems. It's my short  term memory. If a friend of mine goes to the store after checking to see if I need anything and then telling me that he'll be right back as he walks out the door, in 10 minutes I'll be walking  around trying to find him. Then I think to myself, "Remember how nuts you are? He must  have already left for the store." Try as I might, I can't remember him walking out the door. I guess if you KNOW you're nuts, you're still OK. This should be interesting to experience...stay tuned in occasionally and see if I end up like Charlie Gordon in Flowers for Algernon. If you should note any decline in my online demeanor, please let me know.

:)

I have really hard fingernails...

...and I always have. When I was a teenager, my class mates had a hard time believing they were real. Of course, try as they might, they couldn't pull them off. And remember, we didn't have acrylic nails back then. Hard nails lead to long nails and they grow fast. I don't get chips or stupid stuff, just sooner or later a nail is attacked by a knife or something as shortening. Then, I HAVE to cut them all to the quick because I can't have nine long nails and one short one and I also need to have my nails all at the same length.

I don't know why I even started on my nails except to say that they have reached a length (all10 at once) at which they can easily push two keys on the keypad. It means a lot more proofreading and spelling correction...not to mention deleting actual digits from otherwise properly spelled words. Oh well.

Another thing that screwed me up was the fact that I wanted to post a picture that I took of the sunset from the Tampa Bay area. You would have loved it. But, for some reason this computer wouldn't allow me to do it, I'm not going to explain it, it just didn't work. And it's not like I'm totally computer illiterate. Well, maybe I am, but I'm not Internet illiterate nor do I have problems navigating the secrets uncovered when you click on the Start button in the bottom left hand corner.

Anyway, that leaves you with just me and I'm glad you're here. Of course, maybe some mean people are out there and obviously, I'm not talking to you...but my buddies know who they are. I used to have a t-shirt that said, "MEAN PEOPLE SUCK". And you know  what? It's true. Mean People do, in fact, suck. They suck the life out of other people when they could just as easily enjoy their own lives.

A nice quote that deserves to be read and given due consideration is:


Great men talk about ideas; Mediocre men talk about things; Small men talk about people.

When you yahoo's discuss me, you place yourself where you belong.

Anyway, I was thinking, I could do some sort of Gypsy/Hippie/Commune sort of thing. It was either that or getteth myself to a nunnery but that idea was quickly dismissed. Do trust that I shall stay in touch.

Peace

Hi!

I'm at a better computer (although I certainly appreciate the last one) so I can finally create a new post. So, here we go. I have an interesting, controversial and certainly unpredictable plan. It's something I've considered for a LONG time and I've finally decided that the time is right. I hereby announce that I would like to be a Gypsy.

(I have to qualify something, my father always told me that the word Gypsy had to do with them "gypping" people. It has nothing to do with that, it has to do with a long word that you can look up like I did if you care enough.)

I seen no reason not to be a Gypsy, I like to travel, I like to dance and I've always wanted to learn to play that tambourine. Most important of all, I simply LOVE the clothes!!! I have since the late 60's. I'm so excited about my new plan but as usual, I can't find any Gypsy's. I even looked them up on Google.

Could y'all do me a favor? Check around for Gypsys and see if you can find one who's taking new members.